


The Late Bloom

by Zander Frae (ZanderFrae), ZanderFrae



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Biracial Character, Bisexual Male Character, F/F, F/M, Good Petunia Evans Dursley, Happy Harry Potter, Jewish Character, LGBTQ Themes, M/M, Multi, Paganism, Parallels, Polyamorous Character, Quidditch, The kids are too young for relationships right now.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25979431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZanderFrae/pseuds/Zander%20Frae, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZanderFrae/pseuds/ZanderFrae
Summary: What if Vernon found out about magic before he married Petunia? What if, one day, he left Petunia shaking and sobbing in the cold just after her parents' funeral, and a squib just so happened to decide that he was the best person to comfort her. How would that effect her view on the magical world, her relationship with Lily, and the nephew she would eventually be asked to care for?
Relationships: Petunia Evans Dursley/Original Male Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 82





	1. A New Perspective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am trans* and definitely plan on having a more inclusive Hogwarts than the TERF who gave us this wonderful world to make our own.

September 23, 1978

Just a couple hours drive away from her parents’ funeral, Petunia Evans crumpled in the passenger seat of her boyfriend’s car. The paroxysmal sobs she’d held at bay the entire month she’d had to plan finally took her over. Vernon, still red-faced from the indignity of  **_certain_ ** other attendees, patted her leg absently while continuing to rant about “bloody poufs, wearing flashy  **_robes_ ** of all things… to a bloody funeral!” He’d droned since they got in the car about how the freaks had ruined a perfectly fine funeral and beautiful day. Petunia loved her boyfriend, but he was not exactly the most… empathetic of individuals.

After several letters back and forth--mercifully sent via Royal Post--Petunia had almost been looking forward to seeing and mourning with her estranged sister. They hadn’t seen each other since the December before Lily graduated, after all… nearly two years. Between the woman’s rowdy companions and Vernon’s indignant rage, the sisters had barely had a chance to even hug, much less commiserate.

Their parents had been weakening for some time--already in their late 30s when they had Petunia and starting their 4th decade by the time Lily surprised them--especially after a bad bout of pneumonia sent them to hospital just before Spring. So, neither sister was surprised when their parents passed, blissfully and painlessly, during their sleep. Still, one never thinks they’ll be orphaned before they’re 50--much less before 25.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she blubbered before Vernon parked the car in front of her flat. In truth, she noticed the awkward near-silence more than the stillness. Sniffling a few times more, she blearily looked up from her lap and took in the world around her. “I’m… so… so sorry, Vernon. I’ve just been horrible company, I know.”

“The drive wasn’t all bad. You couldn’t have helped it, I’m sure,” the young man replied, a bit stiffly. “I just can’t imagine why you allowed people like  **_that_ ** to ruin your parents’ funeral. I understand that your sister could hardly be helped, but…” he interrupted himself with an exasperated sigh, “why did you never tell me the girl had joined a  **_cult_ ** ? I’m not comfortable at all with you corresponding with those… those  **_freaks_ ** !”

Meekly, voice still trembling and nose runny, Petunia corrected, “It’s not a cult, Vernon.”

“I certainly don’t know what else to call it, Tuney. Who else runs around in colourful  **_robes_ ** ? They’re certainly not  **_Christian_ ** folk. Honestly!”

“Well, no… I imagine they’re not Christian.” A tense silence stretched between them until Petunia could no longer feel the hand she saw on her knee. “There’s something I need to tell you about my family, Vernon. It’s… oh Christ it’s going to sound absolutely mad!”

“After what I saw today, Petunia, I don’t think there’s anything that would surprise me,” he rumbled moodily.

So, Petunia explained everything--from Lily’s first showings at age 3--to the graduation Petunia had refused to attend. Vernon’s hand had left her leg before Petunia even started explaining Hogwarts. His face paled and then reddened again. By the time she was done, Vernon looked more furious than she’d ever seen him. He opened his door, walked around to her side and threw open the door. “You need to get out, Petunia.”

“W--what?”

“I won’t have your unnatural ideas and crazy family anywhere near me or mine ever again! To  **_believe_ ** that those freaks have unnatural  **_powers_ ** ,” he sputtered, spraying spittle as he went, “even magic makes you just as dangerous as them. You’re a freak too, Petunia, and I  **_won’t have it_ ** !  **_Get out of my car!_ ** ” He reached in and hauled her by the elbow out of her seat. As she trembled and sobbed, he bellowed, “You’re never to contact me again, you hear? I’ll send anything you’ve left at my flat by Royal Post.  **_Do. Not. Contact me._ ** You hear?”

Mutely, the woman nodded and just barely moved out of the way of the passenger door before he slammed it. Several neighbors had come out to see what the fuss was, and one of them--a young man with dark hair, beard and eyes--came to wrap a blanket around her shoulders as the rotund man sped away. Slowly, he guided her to her door and offered to check on her in the morning with a gentle assertion she should clean up and go to bed.

The next morning, she’d almost convinced herself that the whole thing was a nightmare when she heard a knock on the door. With a trembling sense of trepidation, she answered to see a warm smile and a box of donuts. “I thought some fried food and sugar might do you a world of good. My name is Scott, by the by. Scott Bradley. Unit 509.”

“I… yes. Thank you.” Petunia moved slightly out of the way and gestured him in. “I had hoped…”

“That you wouldn’t see me again? That I didn’t exist and, therefore, neither did your fight?” Wilting, the young woman nodded mutely. “That’s understandable. It’s truly horrible what he did to you. Calling you a freak for something out of your control.” There was a calm but tangible disdain in his admonishment.

“You… you don’t think there’s something wrong with me? Believing…” she trailed off, unsure if he’d heard the context of Vernon’s actions.

“In magic?” Petunia flinched, and he shook his head sadly. “I grew up with magic. I don’t have any of my own, but 4 siblings and all the adults in my life went to either Hogwarts or Beauxbatons. It’s… easier for me to live as a Muggle… fewer reminders of what I’m missing.”

A silence that was neither uncomfortable nor pleasant stretched between them until Petunia drew in a deep breath. “I didn’t know it happened the other way. Normal people being born to… to witches and wizards.”

He nodded. “It’s not terribly common--though more common than most would admit--and many people look down on it.”

“Do you… have you ever…  **_hated_ ** them?” the sharp-featured blonde murmured.

“Hated them? For having the magic that I do not?” She gave a sharp, small nod. “I fancied that I might… when I was younger. I had tutors and house elves and uncomfortable dinners while all my siblings had adventures and boarding school and  _ friends _ .” He stared at his feet pensively for a moment. Petunia was in no mood to rush him, just glad for answers and someone to talk to. He finally looked into her eyes and completed his answer, “It was jealousy. I never wanted them ill or to switch places. I just wanted to  **_also_ ** have what they did. Coming out here, into the Muggle world, and age made things clearer. I love my family, but I never quite felt like I belonged. They couldn’t help that any more than I could.”

They were quiet for a long time, eating their donuts and deep in thought. After all the donuts were gone and the box thrown away, Petunia spoke softly, “I’ve always been… jealous--and scared--of my sister. Our parents were proud--so proud, I don’t think it ever occurred to them to be scared. She had this strange little friend who… well, he doesn’t really matter. I knew she was different before her letter came. She wrote me countless letters, describing what school was like and how it felt to do magic. I… don’t think I was a very good sister.”

“You were children. She was trying to get you to share in something you couldn’t. Mine did that too. I don’t think they realized it hurt until I moved here. They wanted to share what made them happy because they love us and thought it would make us happy too.” Petunia sniffled, and he held out a kerchief. “Being upset with them when we were young is no reason to be ashamed now. We just have to learn, love, and grow past our jealousy.”

“Thank you. I’ve… never had anyone who understood before.”

He called on her a couple more times that week and invited her to a social gathering with some friends the week after. Soon, they were spending a handful of days with each other every week. After a few months, they were thick as thieves. A year later, they had an awkward first date at the cinema, both of them sweaty palmed and unsure if they were on the same page.

*****

March 30, 1980, the pair had a quiet ceremony observed by their closest friends, one of his brothers, and Lily--who was just starting to show. Three blissful weeks later, Petunia discovered she was pregnant and was slightly embarrassed to realize just how close she’d come to a pregnant wedding. What  _ would  _ the neighbors have thought?

Lily’s son, Harry, would be born on the last day of July that year. Petunia’s son, Alder, followed along on the 13th day of December. Lily, James, and their squalling son sat anxiously in the waiting room throughout the 6 hour labor. Many pictures of the two boys would be taken over the next year.

Petunia was never a terribly big fan of Sirius--or James, for that matter--but she had to agree that Remus fellow seemed a kind sort. She could imagine him in a library or primary school. He and Scott certainly got on well, discussing books and theories in a quiet corner as the boys screamed and squealed in play with Padfoot and James.

Eventually, Petunia adjusted to having owls arrive at her kitchen window, though she and Scott had a difficult time finding a place where the neighbors wouldn’t cause a stink about it. In the end, they found a semi-secluded, four bedroom cottage that came at a suspiciously low price. The wizards in their life had all insisted on doing an inspection of their own due to price but came up with nothing their wands couldn’t fix easily enough.

*****

As the Wizarding World grew more dangerous, Lily’s letters grew sparser and less detailed, Remus’s completely stopped, and the letters from Scott’s family multiplied exponentially. Just days before the Fidelius was placed, Lily visited Petunia and Scott’s cottage, alone, to explain what was about to happen and why. Petunia agreed, tearfully, to be Harry’s godmother--neither of them were terribly confident in Sirius’s ability to fulfill his godfatherly duties--should anything happen despite the protection charms and wardings. Lily also cast a few protections on Bradley Cottage just to be safe.

Just before she departed again, Lily opened her mouth, closed it, and seemed to think hard before opening her mouth to speak again, “Listen… should Harry end up in your arms, I know you’ll love him endlessly… but I worry about what life not knowing magic should be like for him. So… I’m going to pay for the Daily Prophet to come to you. When things are… safe, again… if Remus is still free--the boys suspect he might be a spy, but I’m not all too convinced of that. It’s  **_Remus_ ** , after all--I want you to owl him; I want my son to have an upstanding wizard in his life. My owl will be yours if I die. No, Petunia. Don’t argue that. You don’t have to use her aside from contacting Remus--and possibly Sirius, though he’s the  **_least_ ** likely to survive if we die. Just… take care of her for me.”

Satisfied that her sister had finished, Petunia swiped away a few tears and pulled the redhead into as crushing a hug as the petite Muggle was capable of. “You’d better not die on me, Lily Potter; I just got you back!”

“Believe me, Tuney: we’re doing our best to be in your hair for many years to come,” Lily snuffled into perfectly-coiffed, blonde hair.

Before the two could dissolve into inconsolable puddles, Lily turned on the spot with a loud  _ crack _ . Neither was willing to say goodbye in a literal sense, but neither could shake the feeling that that’s exactly what they’d done. Unfortunately, they were all too right.


	2. What Happened to the Potters

October 31, 1981

Albus Dumbledore woke at the break of dawn, heart hammering and magic on alert. He immediately sent Patroni to McGonagall and Hagrid, informing them that something had happened at the Potter’s and they should mobilise the Order members to check on the Longbottoms--who had refused a Fidelius of their own. He also sent Fawkes--under a Disillusionment Charm--directly to the Bradleys, bearing a solemn letter.

_ Mr and Mrs Bradley, _

_ I solemnly regret to inform you that there has been an incident at the Potters’. I do not at this time have details regarding the events, but I felt it prudent to inform you that I fear the worst so that you may prepare yourselves for further news. I know it was Lily’s wish you receive primary guardianship of Harry should he survive where his parents did not. Keep an eye on the skies, and eat a bit of chocolate as you await my next letter. _

_ Sincerely, _

_ Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore _

When the famous wizard arrived at Godric’s Hollow, he rushed up the barely-sound stairs of the mostly-exposed house to find Severus already mourning Lily’s death, bitterly. “What happened?” Albus demanded.

“He promised he would spare her! He promised! There… the spy. I don’t know who, but… they didn’t tell me where he was going. I only knew about Bellatrix!” the young man sobbed into red hair, barely audible.

The elder wizard hissed lightly, “You need to get out of here, Severus. I cannot save you if the Aurors find you here, my boy. GO! Find what news you can of your Dark Lord.”

The boy made a valiant attempt to recover himself before thrusting forward a nearly-bare forearm. “He is gone, Headmaster. There is no other explanation for his Mark’s near-disappearance. Whatever happened, however it happened, we have won.”

Dumbledore hummed and nodded. “We shall have to determine that for sure--I see no body--but… I see no reason to disbelieve at this time. Run to Hogwarts, my boy. I will confer further with you later. Minerva is no doubt expecting you.”

Gently, the Potions master eased Lily to the floor and Apparated out. Dumbledore turned to see Harry, unusually silent, staring at him from the crib, an odd laceration on his forehead. Before Albus could cast a simple diagnostic charm, a loud rumble outside announced the arrival of a motorcycle.

With barely enough time to be relieved that Severus had left before Sirius arrived, the old man scooped Harry into his arms and took the stairs carefully back down. He heard a howl of anguish just before Sirius rushed into the room and fell to his knees at James’s side. The Headmaster cleared his throat, “The boy survived, Sirius. You must take him to--”

“NO!” he screamed, curls whipping about his face. “Take… take him to Lily’s sister. It’s what she wanted, and… and I have to find Peter. He could be in danger. Tortured.”

“Or,” Albus interrupted gently, “he could be the spy.”

Sirius’s eyes widened, “Not Remus. Oh…  **_Remus_ ** !” Immediately, the man was replaced with a large, black, bear-like dog who ran about the remains of the house, sniffing imperiously and occasionally barking.

“So this is how you spent so many nights safely with a werewolf. I should have guessed, my boy, but now is hardly a time to--”

Sirius transformed back into himself, effectively cutting off the wizened wizard in front of him. “Peter was here. Doesn’t smell like fear.” He crossed to put a trembling hand on Harry’s face and gently kissed the cut on his forehead. “Get him to Petunia! Make the wards yourself and leave a few people on guard. We don’t know how much Peter betrayed.”

“And you, Sirius, what are you planning, my boy?”

“I have a filthy rat to catch!”

*****

Petunia woke to the flutter of wings next to her bed and a gorgeous, large bird holding a wax-sealed letter in its beak.Terror gripped her heart as she reached out for the letter. Next to her, Scott barely stirred.

Numb, she got out of bed as smoothly and quietly as she could and made her way downstairs to the kitchen. Wrapping her robe tight around her, the blonde put on a kettle and prepared the strongest loose leaf she had. After a moment’s thought, she pulled out a bag of chocolate crisps, remembering Remus’s oft-spoken love of the bean’s healing properties.  _ It couldn’t hurt, anyway _ , she thought. Once the tea was ready, she took a trembling seat facing the window. In all, she downed 5 cups before hearing a knock at her door.

At the door was a severe-looking woman in a dark tartan. She spoke in a soft, crisp brogue, “Good morning, my dear. I was one of your sister’s professors at school. I’ve come to make sure that all is well here. Might I come in, dear?”

Mutely, Petunia allowed the strange woman into her house and, locking the door behind her, whispered, “Do you have any more news?”

“Cannae say that I do, dear… but Albus is sure to update one of us soon. Lily was… one of my favourite students, you know. So bright and warm.” Though the words were nothing one might be surprised to hear a teacher say, something about the tone felt like an apology of sorts. The witch held out a steady hand, “But where are my manners? I am Minerva McGonagall. You, Mrs Bradley--if I recall?--may call me Minerva.”

“Thank you, Minerva… Petunia, please. Thank you for coming.” The two sat in an uncomfortable silence neither could bring themselves to fill, occasionally making new kettles of tea in tense apprehension.

When Scott came down, surprised that his wife had risen before him--and surprised even further to find a Scotswoman in his kitchen--and swiftly decided to call in to work, citing a family emergency.

*****

Sirius was hauled away from his explosive confrontation with Peter Pettigrew, by no fewer than 5 Aurors. The entire way to the Ministry of Magic, he screamed about Peter being an illegal Animagus, confessing to all who could possibly hear that he was one too and would happily take any punishment deemed necessary so long as they caught that filthy rat! Most of the Aurors believed that the Black Madness had finally taken him, but they crossed Mad Eye Moody in the hall, and  _ he _ , at least, decided to do a bit of inquisition on the raving man’s behalf.

In the end, he was charged only with 1 Count Reckless Endangerment of Muggles, 1 Count Breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and 1 Count Unregistered Animagus, earning him 3 years in Azkaban. Peter was never caught, but pet stores were to be on the lookout for rats with missing toes. The general consensus was that he would be unlikely to make his home in the Muggle world and would, eventually, turn up.

*****

For reasons unexplained, Dumbledore did not arrive with Harry until the sun had set and dinner served. A gentle, but firm, knock startled the somber occupants of Bradley Cottage. Minerva rose smoothly and murmured, “Allow me,” before casting a few wards at the door, chastising herself for not doing so the moment she arrived. Relief flooded her when she opened the door to see Albus and a small, wriggling bundle. “Albus! What took you so long? The papers, they say…”

“The rumours are true, McGonagall, Mr Bradley, Mrs Bradley. Lily and James gave their lives in protection of their young son. Somehow, and no one is quite sure how it might have happened, Harry survived Voldemort’s Killing Curse, but the Dark Lord did not.”

“But the Fidelius! Is Sirius alright? Surely he didn’t--”

Albus held up a hand and shook his head, “Sirius was not the Secret Keeper. Peter, it seems, betrayed those who treated and loved him best.”

“I do hope Mr Black refrains from anything rash…” Minerva moaned softly, knowing the likelihood of that was quite dim indeed.

“Indeed. Well, there is much to discuss. I--ah, yes, of course.” Petunia interrupted his train of thought with a teary, silent demand to hand over her nephew. He acquiesced easily, transferring the small bundle to the petite blonde before continuing, “There must be protections and safeguards, of course.”

The adults huddled around the small kitchen table in a homely cottage filled with love and memories. As they conferred, Lily’s owl swooped in and landed on Petunia’s shoulder. This, somehow, made everything a bit  _ too _ real, and the young woman--far too young to have to bury both parents  _ and _ her only sister--broke down, sobs wracking her body and disrupting Harry’s already fitful sleep.

Near midnight, the witch and wizard in their midst agreed that all safety precautions they could cast on a Muggle house had been cast, and they made their way back to Hogwarts. In his office, Dumbledore twinkled at his uptight Deputy Headmistress. “You needn’t have Transfigured a crib for him, Minerva.”

“Lily was my favourite student, you know,” she admitted.

“I wasn’t aware that you practised favouritism,” he teased, arching one eyebrow.

“Not in my grading or discipline, but… well, the heart is not quite as orderly as I might like.”

“Quite so, Minerva. Quite so.”


	3. A Most Unusual Family

November 5, 1981

_ Remus, _

_ We have not had many chances to speak in recent years. No doubt by now you have heard about Lily and James. I know how close you and James were… so I imagine that recent events are hitting you with as much pain as I feel in the absence of Lily’s presence. We are hosting a very small, mostly secret memorial for them at our cottage in nine days’ time. _

_ You are most welcome and encouraged to come, but that is not the primary reason I am writing to you. We have Harry in our care, and—of course—we are happy that he remains so, but Lily wanted him to have a respectable and mature connection to the magical world as well. That influence, she directed, was to be you so long as the suspicions about you proved false. Dumbledore assured that with Peter’s betrayal, those concerns were laid to rest. _

_ Please help us in raising a magical boy. We already love Harry like our own, but there’s only so much non-magical parents can do to help their magical child feel connected to a world they won’t fully enter until their eleventh year. _

_ Hoping you are well, _

_ Petunia Evans Bradley _

*****

November 9, 1981

_ Petunia, _

_ Thank you so much for your faith in me. I will do my best to make it to the memorial. There are a few things yet that I must attend, but I am optimistic about my chances. It gratifies me to hear that Lily had faith in me even when others did not. James was certainly like a brother to me—and Lily a sister by extension. _

_ I will speak with Dumbledore about safety concerns regarding Harry’s connection to the magical world. Thankfully, we have a few years yet before he will be interested in magical excursions. Together, we will be able to make sure his life is filled with love and balance between the two worlds to which he belongs. _

_ I have been wondering since I received the news how to reach out to you about remaining in Harry’s life and must admit that I shed a few tears in gratitude upon reading your letter. Asking for things has never been a strong suit of mine. _

_ Until I see you next, _

_ Remus Lupin _

*****

December 18, 1981

_ Remus, _

_ We were so sorry to hear that you were taken ill and could not attend Alder’s birthday. He and Harry played splendidly and smashed cake into a horrid mess—just as young boys should, of course! See included a picture of the aftermath. Aren’t they precious? _

_ I am mainly writing to ensure that we see you for Christmas. There is a stocking with your name on the mantel and a few presents under the tree. The boys may not be old enough to truly appreciate your presence, but Scott and I are! Someday, the boys will look fondly upon pictures of their favourite uncle holding them next to a tree. _

_ Also included are pictures of my progress so far. I feel  _ **_much_ ** _ larger than I did with Alder, but the doctors say I am having a girl! I will, of course, name her Lily. We have yet to agree on a middle name. Do you have any suggestions? _

_ Hoping you are well, _

_ Petunia Bradley _

*****

March 3, 1982

Remus sat in a Muggle hospital room, keeping careful watch over his squealing and giggling wards. The toddlers could hardly look less alike—one with sun-darkened olive skin, black hair, and vibrant green eyes while the other sported strawberry blond locks, dark brown eyes, and a freckled, pale complexion—but they loved tickles with near-identical enthusiasm.

Ensconced in a double-stroller, Harry James Potter and Alder Watson Bradley had no cause for concern. Both knew—to the extent a 2 year old can—that they were loved and safe. Their usual caretakers—Mr and Mrs Bradley—were currently in the middle of a difficult labour. Already 5 hours in, the doctors had begun to talk about resorting to surgery.

Petunia, shrill and weedy, was screaming mindless obscenities and squeezing her poor husband’s hand to near breaking. Not that Scott minded, of course; the man was a hopeless sap for his wife and their children. No matter how much pain they experienced today, all indications pointed to a very healthy—but  **_large—_ ** baby girl.

In the waiting room, Remus fielded multiple questions about whether the boys were his, why they were here, and even a bit of flirtation from single women who found a soft-spoken young man who was clearly good with children to be more than a bit attractive. The bit of scarring on his face just added a bit of danger to an otherwise wholesome and safe appearance. He was, in truth, unsure how to handle such advances.

*****

October 15, 1984

_ Petunia, _

_ Thank you for asking after Sirius’s well-being. As I feared, he has suffered some poor side effects of his time in prison. I do not believe it would be best for him to be around the children just yet. We are looking into getting him a Mind Healer—which is similar to your… I believe you call them psychotherapists? _

_ I do not have any doubts that he still loves dear Harry or that he will work as hard as possible to be able to see his godson again. Indeed, he has devoured every picture I have of both boys and would love to be their shared uncle someday soon! Already he wants to buy a new child-safe broomstick. I am… wary of the safety in that venture, but Harry did well enough on one three years ago. And… I cannot deny that James would have wanted this. _

_ Yours Kindly, _

_ Remu _ s

*****

December 1, 1984

_ Remus, _

_ Scott and I are looking forward to seeing you and Sirius for Alder’s birthday! After so many months exchanging letters with you both, we are relieved that Sirius is finally going to meet his new nephew and be reacquainted with our godson! _

_ We have prepared the guest bedroom for you both. I see no reason for you to find lodging at a hotel when there’s a perfectly good room with us for free! Lily is, of course, still nestled in our room each night. Included are a few pictures of the boys laying next to and holding her. They’ve taken to her like wildfire in a forest! Such wonderful boys. _

_ Harry has started showing signs of his magic—small things like his hair regrowing when we try to cut it and his peas mysteriously disappearing as soon as he sees them—but Alder has shown nothing yet. Scott says his family was never into Quidditch, so he is unsure if non-magical children are safe on even the toddler brooms. Please look into this before bringing a broom. I would hate for Alder to miss out and watch his cousin get to play something he is not. We would like them to be as equal as possible until Hogwarts. _

_ Love and Gratitude, _

_ Petunia _

*****

December 24, 1984

At precisely 10:30 in the morning, two wizards sat leisurely in a muggle train station, soaking in the sights. Remus Lupin was well acquainted with the area and the wait, but Sirius Black—looking all too charming in a tailored button down, tastefully transfigured robe-blazer, and tastefully snug black jeans—wiggled and bounced fretfully beside him. His eyes darted madly around the room, unsure where to place his focus.

Remus sighed and admonished for what must have been the hundredth time, “Honestly, Sirius, one would think you’d never seen a Muggle train station before. This is not too different from approaching 9 3/4.”

“It’s been  **_years_ ** , Remus, since I saw my godson!” Sirius answered a bit too loudly, drawing curious glances.

“And whose fault is that?” Remus murmured just low enough that Sirius could pretend not to hear him.

“Can’t a man be bloody well excited about that? He can  **_talk_ ** now, Remus! Sentences!”

With a wry grin, the werewolf chuckled, “Yes, he can. I’ve heard a few.”

“Yes. Well… you don’t have to rub it in. What time are they meant to be here?”

“Any moment now, Sirius. They have two four year olds and a two year old to wrangle; you’ve got to be patient.”

“ **_YEARS_ ** , Remus!”

“ **_Your fault_ ** _ ,  _ Black!”

Before Sirius could respond, a shrill voice called, “Remus! Over here!”

Petunia’s call was quickly followed by two very excitable boys shouting over each other and trying to get out of their stroller.

That night, Remus and Sirius took an entire film cartridge worth of Wizarding photos. Most of them featured Harry, but Remus made sure to sneak a couple of Petunia and Scott looking moon-eyed at each other, Sirius playing with little Lily, and one of Padfoot licking Alder’s hair into a mohawk. It was almost enough to feel like maybe Sirius hadn’t missed terribly much after all… almost.

Harry and Alder each got to choose one present to open in advance—in addition to their Christmas jammies. Harry received a dinosaur skeleton 3d “puzzle” he’d begged for after a nursery school trip to the museum. Alder received a set of magical fingerpaints that would only stick to the included parchment—Remus thought it fitting after a hilariously long, frustrated letter from Petunia about the number of times she’d cleaned the carpet just during November.  **_She_ ** might have been more excited about the paints than Alder, but that was perfectly alright. Lily was gifted a new mobile that had a bit of magical enhancement.

Overnight, the number of presents under the tree multiplied—the boys still believed in Father Christmas, after all—and the family was roused by shouting, giggling boys at the ungodly hour of 5 am. Once all adults had a strong cup of coffee and the boys had inhaled their sugary porridge, Sirius transformed into Padfoot and distributed the presents to giddy boys who pulled a little on his fur in excitement. He couldn’t have been more ecstatic.

The last presents to be opened were a sequence of delights. First, a helmet for each boy in their favourite colours. Second, a bike in corresponding colours with their names painted and Charmed on. Finally, matching child brooms. In splendid contentment, Petunia and Scott watched as their oldest children—for Harry truly was  _ theirs _ now—were instructed and protected by their fanciful uncles.

Boxing Day held few surprises, but all adults agreed that was perfectly alright. The boys were content, safe, and loved; that’s all anyone could ask for.


	4. As It Pertains To Snakes

September 18, 1985

Though the boys were only a few months apart in age, their birthdates put them in separate years, so Harry generally had to wait 15 minutes of his recess for Alder’s class to let out. They each had a few friends, but most of the other kids left them to their own devices. That suited the cousins just fine.

On this particular Wednesday, Harry was squatting near the outskirts of the playground, speaking in hushed tones with a small, green snake. “I’ve never seen one of you in real life before! Only books!”

“I’ve never heard one of you speak before!” the snake replied.

“What kind are you?” the five-year-old inquired curiously.

“My kind! What other kind is there?” it questioned with a bit of confusion.

“Oh there are all kinds! Uncle Scott showed me in a book! I’ll ask him when I go home.”

“What kind are you?”

“I’m a wizard!” Harry shouted, drawing a few confused glances from other children. “But… I’m not supposed to tell anyone that. You won’t tell, will you?”

“I can’t.”

“Promise you won’t!”

“I promise.”

“Goo—” Harry began.

“Harry Potter! What are you doing all the way over he—IS THAT A SNAKE?” one of the recess minders exclaimed as they moved to pull Harry away from the small snake.

“She’s a sweet snake, Ms Robertson! Promise! She doesn’t know what kind she is, though,” Harry whined.

Seeing that the snake had slithered away, Ms Robertson squatted in front of her young charge and gently squeezed both hands. “She was talking to you, Harry?” He nodded, shyly. “Well, isn’t that cool! I bet I know which part of the zoo you’re going to like best during our field trip next week! But… how about you only talk to snakes that are in a tank? That way, if they get angry or scared or confused, they won’t hurt you.”

As soon as Harry promised, crossing his toes to be safe, she let him run back toward the other children and his approaching cousin. When Petunia came to pick the boys up that afternoon, she was a little surprised to hear about Harry’s adventure, but all the grown ups attributed it to an overactive imagination. After all, some children had imaginary friends who were all sorts of fantastical beasts… why couldn’t Harry pretend to talk to snakes?

*****

December 17, 1987

Having finally won a years long argument with Dumbledore on the subject of Harry’s socialisation within wizarding culture, Sirius and Remus were granted permission to introduce the children to the Weasley family. Molly insisted that Scott and Petunia come along. After all, she thought, Arthur would love to get some information on obscure Muggle ‘artifacts’.

The whole family bundled up after work and school to have a bit of cocoa and finally get to try out a proper broomstick. Molly insisted on bundling up every child in a couple of hand-knitted sweaters, but only the twins complained; everyone else was too eager to get into the air.

Outside, Bill and Sirius took to the air immediately as referees, instructors, and safety-charmers alike. Charlie lugged out the family’s beat up Quidditch set. “We don’t have a snitch,” Charlie explained apologetically, but we’ve got everything else! Mum’s Charmed the bludgers to hit weaker, though.”

“Perfectly fine, that, Charlie!” Remus exclaimed as he oversaw Fred and George instructing Ron, Harry, and Alder in how to mount and fly their brooms. Percy, imperiously, carried a chair and textbook onto the lawn. His mother may have said he couldn’t spend the day wasting away inside, but she had failed to impose any laws against reading  **_outside_ ** . And, really, that was the extent of his rebellious streak.

Once all the boys— _ even Alder— _ were in the air, Charlie began assigning roles. Fred and George would each be Beaters—one for each team—and Ron, who had never been allowed to play but soaked up Quidditch stats, plays, and strategies better than a sponge, would be the other team’s Captain. A coin flip gave Ron first pick, so he took Harry as Chaser. Fred declared he’d sacrifice and play on the Ickle Team, so Alder and George both joined Charlie in the air. Ron took post in front of his single hoop, and pure, unadulterated chaos broke out.

Sirius kept up a running commentary—interjected with exclamations of various cushioning spells, fouls, and an ever-frequent, “Moony! Doesn’t he fly just like his father?”

“He does! And Alder soars like Lily! I’ll get Petunia!” Remus responded the first time, chuckling despite the catch in his throat.

Scott murmured proudly and a little in awe that Alder’s skill on a broom definitely implied that he had  _ some _ magical ability… even if it hadn’t manifested just yet. Petunia kissed her husband, trying to hide from herself just how much the idea of  _ all  _ of her children joining a world to which she would never belong scared her.

At the end of the day, Ron’s team took a surprise win—only one point ahead when Molly called everyone in for dinner and early Christmas presents. Harry, flushed and beaming, declared that he, Ron, and Alder would be lifelong friends. Neither of the other boys felt inclined to disagree.

*****

June 30, 1988

One day, as the summer sun set, the news reported on a new birth at the local zoo: a hippo that barely made it and was the cause of great excitement. Lily, six years old and  **_passionate_ ** about animals, immediately began begging her parents to go as the anchor discussed the difficult birth, feeding times, and the exhibit’s new opening.

“Lily, begging and whining will get you nowhere. We can talk about this  _ calmly _ , or you can forget going!” Petunia scolded.

“But Mom,” the girl began, her face screwing up and eyes beginning to water.

“Not another word!”

The boys exchanged knowing glances and ran off to giggle about “babies” together in their room. Lily, however, was unprepared to be denied. Pitches rose, feet were stamped, and talks with fathers were threatened. After about half an hour of getting nowhere, both Bradley women were at their wit’s end.

Just as Petunia prepared to drag her baby girl to her room by the ear for some well-earned time out, Scott arrived home bearing groceries. “Good evening, beautiful fa—ah. What, exactly is going on in here? Why are my favourite ladies fighting?”

Tears streaming down her face, Lily sobbed, “Mum won’t let me see the baby hippo!”

“Well, I hardly think that’s true, pumpkin! Your mother is a  **_very_ ** reasonable woman,” Scott intoned patiently.

“I said that we couldn’t go  **_tonight_ ** .”

“Well, pumpkin, I reckon that’s about as true a thing as your mum could say. They’re not letting anyone in to see the baby until next week!”

“ **_IT’S NOT FAIR!_ ** ” Lily shouted just before disappearing.

Petunia dissolved into hysterics about her missing baby, but Scott merely rubbed a hand across his face. “Oh my.”

“ **_OH MY?!_ ** Scott, our  **_baby girl_ ** has just disappeared from the living room, and all you can say is,  **_‘Oh my_ ** ,’? What is  **_wrong_ ** with you?” Petunia exploded.

Unaccustomed to hearing their parents fight, the boys shyly crept through the hall and peeked into the living room as Scott approached with a calm tone and hands in the air, “I’m sure it’s just a bit of accidental magic. My oldest sister did this once, the summer before her fourth year. She found out Dervish and Banges had a new broom in stock that Quality Quidditch Supplies had already run out of. The whole family had to take a trip up to Scotland for—” he noticed his wife had stopped listening and was, instead, pointing a stark, white finger at the tele.

On-screen, there was quite a bit of hubbub and panic as zookeepers tried to rescue a small, familiar girl from the hippo enclosure. The boys started shouting about having to go rescue her, and the family rushed to the car. The zoo was an entire hour’s drive away. An Auror met them at the entrance with their daughter.

“Not to worry, sir, ma’am. We deal with a few accidental apparations every month. There’s an entire department at the Ministry for clean up! No one will remember by morning,” the woman reassured them over their incessant apologies and thanks.

That evening, once all three children were safely ensconced in bed, Scott and Petunia whispered over a pot of tea with a bit of whiskey in each of their cups.

“I won’t have Alder be left feeling  _ less _ than his siblings! I won’t have him go through what we did!” Petunia’s voice wavered dangerously.

“Pet, unlike either of our families, we will not  _ treat him _ as less than his siblings. He will know and love his strengths—whether those are magical or not—well before Harry graduates from Hogwarts!” As tense silence stretched between them, he decided to try a slightly different tack, “Besides, there are still a few years yet for him to show signs of accidental magic. Honestly, your sister and Harry are the  _ outliers _ , not the norm. Write to Remus; ask for his advice. I’ll write to Dumbledore and ask if he has any resources for Squib and Muggle siblings—I know he didn’t help  _ you _ , but that was years ago.”

*****

July 31, 1988

As had become customary, the Bradleys, Sirius, and Remus packed everything up to spend Harry’s birthday at the Burrow. Most often, the family would spend the night—with most of the children in the apple orchard with tents and adults taking their beds.

Forced to wait until cake and ice cream (catered by Florean Fortescue’s and delivered by Sirius) had a chance to settle before rocketing into the air, the horde of Weasleys, Bradleys, and Potter scattered onto the lawn in groups. Harry, a very brave 8, immediately headed toward where he remembered finding a nest of snakes last time. Alder, an even braver 7.5, followed dutifully as the others played Exploding Snap, picked apples, and  _ whatever _ the Twins of Terror were doing in Arthur’s shed.

The black-haired boy laid on his belly, hissing and sputtering amicably at a family of red garter snakes as his brother stared at the passing clouds. “Why do you think Mum and Dad don’t believe you?”

Harry hummed a bit before shrugging. “I dunno. They believe in magic… so it really doesn’t make much sense,” he murmured. “Did you know snakes don’t have names?”

“They don’t? How do they tell each other apart?”

“I’m not sure!”

“You should ask!”

Harry whipped his attention back to the little family and asked, “ _ How do you know when someone’s talking to you if you don’t have names? _ ”

The biggest snake slithered a little closer and bobbed its head as it hissed, “ _ We have designations—I’m Flit. The smallest one,” _ it slithered forward on cue, “ _ is Hush. _ ”

“ _ So… your names are actions? _ ”

A furious fervour of hissing broke out in response as the snakes debated with each other. In response, Sirius—who’d already been headed over to let the boys know they could play Quidditch now—rushed forward and tried to pull the boys away from the small family. “Sirius! What are you doing? They’ve gotta answer my question!”

“I know it’s fun to play, pup, but those snakes seem rather agitated, alright, bud? They’re not answering any questions today.”

“But they  **_ARE_ ** !  **_See_ ** ? They calmed down!” He frowned at Sirius for a solid minute before turning back to the confused family of garters. “ _ Sorry, guys. He doesn’t believe that I can talk to you. _ ”

Flit bobbed its head again and answered, “ _ You can go if you need to, Speaker, but know that you were correct. Our names  _ **_are_ ** _ actions. _ ”

Sirius froze, eyes darting between the boy and the snake. “Harry… ask it to… do something, but tell me what you’re going to ask before you do it.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at his godfather. “I’ll ask it to wind up my leg. The one at school likes to do that,” and then asked just that.

As Sirius feared, the snake complied with Harry’s request. Trying not to show how much the boy’s feat had shaken him, Black ruffled his hair and instructed Alder to go join the others while he talked a bit with Harry privately.

Once Alder was out of hearing distance, Harry scuffed the ground with his foot. “Am I in trouble, Siri?”

“‘Course not, pup! I just…” a sigh and pause followed as Sirius tried to gather his thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t believe you, kiddo. Listen, though, eh… some adults are  _ scared _ of your ability, so, let’s pretend it’s just pretend except when with family, okay?”

“Why would it be scary?”

“Some adults just… get a little bit silly and fear things they shouldn’t. Understand?”

The boy stared at his feet for a bit before shrugging. “No… but I’ll pretend it’s make believe if that’s the right thing to do.”

“That… that’ll work, pup. That’ll work. Now run off and get your butt on a broom!”  _ That _ instruction was much easier for Harry to follow. Soon, the conversation was nearly forgotten in favor of  **_flight_ ** .


	5. Momentous Advances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's new for the Bradley-Potters? Hmmmm

August 03, 1989

In the desperate, muggy heat of August, two brothers and sisters played in a wilting garden. Harry, sun-kissed and glowing, had the tip of his tongue stuck out in concentration as he tried to fix the mangled flower crown Lily’s young hands were just a little too clumsy and young to make beautiful. Her eyes were red-rimmed and teary, but Alder kept a comforting arm around her shoulders, whispering about how well she’d done for her age.

Petunia offered to help, but Harry glared up at her, declaring, “She’s  **_our_ ** sister; it’s  **_our_ ** job to make sure she has a proper crown.” It was all she could do not to laugh in the face of his seriousness, especially when she realized that Alder was also gazing in solemn disdain at her offer.

“Very well. You  **_are_ ** right… and such good brothers!” the stay-at-home mother enthused.

Satisfied with her response, the boys turned back to the matter at hand. After a few failed tries, Harry handed the crown wordlessly to Alder. The boy studied the crown extensively before setting it aside and peering at the grass and flowerbed. “Mom?”

“Yes, Aldy? Are you ready for some help?” Petunia called across her steaming teacup and newspaper.

“Stop calling me that; I’m too old.” Petunia delicately buried an amused snort in her tea. “There are pictures of you and Aunt Lily with crowns. How… how did you make  **_those_ ** ?”

Most of the amusement gave way to grief, but the blonde did well to hide it, “Oh. Well… your Aunt Lily had… apparently very  _ advanced _ accidental magic. She… grew those crowns. Even in the winter.”

Harry scrunched his nose. “That… seems more on-purpose than it does on-accident. I thought we couldn’t do things like that!”

“I’m told it  **_is_ ** rather uncommon. Your mother was a spectacular woman in several ways, Harry.”

All three children were quiet for a few moments, still aside from Alder’s fretful fidgeting. Freckles pronounced on his pale skin, the young boy seemed to be in deep thought. Eventually, he withdrew the arm around Lily’s shoulders and firmly pressed two hands into the garden’s soil. Harry whispered, “What’re you doing, Al?”

“I don’t know,” came the focused, soft reply.

Petunia’s attention had returned to her paper, but blue eyes shot back up when she heard three shocked gasps. “Alder?” she near-whispered. In his hands was a perfect, ornate crown made of no fewer than four types of flower. While all four grew in her garden, none of her beds had been disturbed, and a weird sort of vine she’d never seen bound the blooms together.

Nearly in shock, Alder gently placed the crown above Lily’s awed face before turning his attention to the tree whose shade they enjoyed. Once again pressing fingers against the dirt, Alder frowned until a root system and more vines sprouted from the earth and bound themselves into a flowerless but robustly handsome crown. This one he shook a bit before placing on Harry’s head.

“Al… you’re… you’re doing  **_magic_ ** ,” Harry exclaimed in delighted surprise.

Petunia held back the sobs that tightened her throat and swiped tears from her cheeks as, much faster, Alder grew a crown for his own head. Satisfied with the job he’d done, the boy turned to his mother and innocently asked, “Do you want one too, Mum?”

No longer quite able to control her tears, Petunia walked over to gather Alder into her arms and whisper into his ear, “Just like that, baby. Your Aunt Lily did it just like that. I am so  **_proud_ ** of you.”

A little uncomfortable with the praise, Alder murmured, “Thanks… but… do you want one?” His mother giggled and nodded against his hair. “I think you have to let go for me to do it.”

She laughed, a warm donkey’s bray, and let him loose. “I can’t wait to tell your father and uncles.”

Harry grinned, eyes wide. “Can we have a party?”

She nodded, eyes still brimming with tears. “All three of my babies are going to Hogwarts! Lily would have been so happy.”

*****

April 21, 1990

Sirius, Remus, and Arthur Weasley gathered all their charges and bundled them up for a professional scrimmage between the Chudley Cannons and Pride of Portree. The tickets seated them in reasonably good seats—especially since Sirius had chosen the less popular team’s side—but they still had to contend with the sheer number of their attendees.

Ron practically vibrated excitement and only vaguely answered when prompted. Ginny struggled to  **_see_ ** . The twins were glued to the action with stares that were eerily discerning on their young faces. Percy seemed rather more interested in his Charms textbook—which Arthur had tried his best to discourage him from bringing. Harry chattered happily as his eyes darted around to track the action with professional accuracy. Alder mostly seemed interested in the cinnamon roasted pecans Remus handed him. Lily was content to sit in Sirius’ lap as he narrated the action for her.

True to form, the Chudley Cannons let almost every Quaffle through a hoop, allowing the Pride of Portree to score 180 points while only managing 60 of their own. The twins commented that the Pride’s Beaters seemed especially diligent and that the Cannons’ could have possibly done better blind-folded. Harry gasped and pointed, “The Cannons’ Seeker found the Snitch!”

Sirius started to ask how he was sure when the Seeker in question suddenly dive-bombed. A quick chase later, the Cannons had won with a lead of 30 scant points. Ron immediately begged for as much merch as Arthur could afford. Sirius quietly passed the overwhelmed father a few extra Galleons and corralled the rest of the kids over to the concession stand for some post-game snacks.

*****

The first time the adults entered Grimmauld Place (shortly after Sirius’s inheritance in 1985), Walburga’s painting screeched profanities against Muggles, Squibs, and werewolves alike. Because there were no children in hearing distance, Petunia drew herself up to full height and had an hour-long scream-off with the vile Black matriarch.

The only thing that ended their duel of witty barbs was Scott’s threat of setting fire to the portrait if she didn’t leave her frame immediately. Though she had a very poor outlook on the world, Walburga Black was nothing if not a self-preservationist Slytherin.

Once Sirius caught his breath and pulled himself off the floor where he’d make a racket of full-bodied laughter (sounding just as mad as many of his Black ancestors), the man joined Remus in casting countless spells to try and rid the wall of the portrait. Eventually, sweating and tired, the two shrugged, and Sirius turned to the Bradleys. “Well, Tuney, I can get Dumbledore here to see if  **_he_ ** can remove the portrait, but I even tried a few Dark spells my family favoured.”

“The children are not setting foot in this house unless that portrait and any like her are  **_gone_ ** ,” Petunia returned, voice steely and haggard from shouting so long.

Scott cleared his throat and inquired with a curious tone, “Is this wall structurally necessary?”

Sirius blinked a few times before casting another couple of spells that, so far as the Bradleys could tell, did absolutely nothing. “Well, no…”

“Are you… particularly fond of it?”

“I’m not particularly fond of  **_anything_ ** in this house, Scott. What are you getting at?” Sirius groused, confused

“Why not just… rid the house of the entire wall, then? You can get rid of her and open up the floor plan a bit.”

“That…” Sirius exchanged glances with Remus, conferring silently before continuing, “is absolutely  **_brilliant_ ** , you mad, mad genius!” The man spun him around and kissed his cheek—to Scott’s amusement and Petunia’s sputtering—before getting started on the Runes and Charms that would best allow them to remove the wall.

Months later, the home was deemed safe enough for children. The adults agreed that Harry should spend as much time with his Godfather as possible, so they created a schedule that would accommodate his primary schooling.

By Beltane of 1990, it was firmly established that the children would spend all Wizarding Holidays with Sirius and Remus while Protestant Holidays would be observed with Petunia. Generally, the Bradleys accepted Sirius’ offer to use their dedicated guest room, but the children had been rather a handful for the last week, and the parents were eager to enjoy some well-deserved alone time.

It was also observed that Lily, most willing of all the children to speak with the house’s remaining portraits, had somehow endeared herself to the cantankerous Kreacher. Due to this unlikely friendship and small stature, Lily often found herself in one of Kreacher’s various nests. One such day, she asked about an interesting-looking but scary-feeling locket.

Kreacher immediately broke into hysterics, explaining about his Young Master Regulus dying because of it and that he would not, “let young Miss Lily touch it! No! It is my duty! My promise! Young Miss Lily will not hurt herself with Kreacher’s promise!”

Concerned, Lily accidentally Apparated the two of them into the kitchen. Since it was empty, she kept firm hold of Kreacher’s ear and screamed for Sirius or Remus. Sirius got the full story out of his obstinate house-elf eventually and, paling, convinced Kreacher to accompany him to Hogwarts.

Dumbledore called upon Severus Snape to bring a house-elf appropriate dose of Calming Draught. Curious, and ever-suspicious of Sirius, Snape stuck around long enough to hear that the artifact had been deviously hidden by the fallen Dark Lord. “Does it… speak to you, Kreacher?” the Potions Master drawled.

Kreacher’s wide eyes shone with unshed tears. “It tells me all about how I’ve failed my Mistress and Young Master Regulus.”

“Would you allow us to destroy the locket for you? It might take some time, but I promise you we will succeed where Regulus could not,” Severus negotiated cautiously.

Dumbledore, sensing the elf’s resistance, added, “I can create a special room warded so that only you or someone in this room currently may enter. You can visit it any time, and I will call for you when we are ready to destroy it for good.”

Kreacher muttered under his breath for a harrowing 15 minutes before begrudgingly answering, “Kreacher will be part of its destruction?”

“Of course, Kreacher. I would never disrespect your loyalty to the Ancient and Noble House of Black by stealing the moment from you,” Dumbledore intoned.

Satisfied, Kreacher nodded and  _ popped _ out of the Headmaster’s office. Severus growled, “Headmaster, if that is what I suspect…”

“It will not be the only Horcrux to have been created. Indeed, gentlemen, there is much to discuss,” Dumbledore nodded solemnly.

*****

No one was entirely sure how it happened… one day, Harry had only a passing idea that potions existed, and the next he was  **_obsessed_ ** . Harry was visiting Grimmauld Place, without his cousins for once, and came into the study bouncing on his toes. Sirius raised an eyebrow and asked his 10 year old godson, “Is there, perhaps, some way I might help you, Harry?”

Harry hummed in thought before venturing, “I was wondering where Remus was, actually.”

“I’m not good enough for you, pup?” the Black patriarch teased.

“You’re great. You’re just… Remus does better with libraries,” Harry hedged.

“Oh. Yes. By all means.” Sirius conceded before shouting, “MOONY!” Something dropped loudly elsewhere in the house, and Harry flashed a grin before racing to track the sound.

By the time Harry and Remus finished interrogating each other, Harry was the proud temporary-owner of a Potions primer from 1746 as well as a couple of books that Remus could not prove were unsuitable for young consumption. The werewolf was suspicious and uneasy about what had brought on this interest, but he was loath to  **_discourage_ ** an eagerness to learn. As a result, Harry disappeared for the majority of his next few visits and was decidedly secretively at home.

A month after Harry finished reading the primer, Petunia called Sirius and spent the requisite 10 minutes walking him through which side of the receiver was designed for talking and which for listening.  _ Honestly, that man _ , she thought with amused exasperation. “Can you hear me now, dolt?”

“Yes!” he shouted far too loudly.

Petunia sighed before barrelling on, “I was wondering if you could enlighten me as to your godson’s current secretive habits.”

“How you manage to say that in such an accusative manner is just one of the many reasons I will never understand but will always love you, Tuney,” Sirius drawled.

“Hush, you rake. Do you know what he’s doing?”

“This is most likely a result of his request for Remus to help him with my library a couple of month ago. Hang on a moment, darling.” Thankfully for Petunia’s eardrums, Sirius waited until the receiver was nestled against his chest before screaming for Moony to come to the phone.

After answering and returning a few questions, Remus frowned, “Kreacher!” the elf popped into existence next to him. “Is anything missing from the potions lab and stores?”

Sirius’s eyes widened dramatically, and he raced upstairs to survey the damage himself. Remus raised an eyebrow and sighed. “Petunia, I imagine we will be coming to visit you before the day is out, if that’s alright?”

“Just so long as our boy is safe,” she answered with a pinched mouth and creased brow.

“We would already know if he wasn’t,” Remus assured, knowing very well how much of a lie he might be feeding her.

If Harry was suspicious of their appearance at dinner, he hid it well under an eagerness to play with Padfoot and swap books with Remus. Once dessert was digesting and Scott took Lily and Alder to the cinema, however, Harry narrowed his eyes. “Today isn’t a special day, is it? I don’t remember anything on the calendar.”

Sirius chuckled, “You remember right, pup.”

“We need to know where you’re practicing with Potions, Harry,” Remus fixed him with a kind but stern  _ look _ .

The boy wiggled a bit, screwing his mouth into a strange shape before he nodded. “I followed all the rules about ven’lation from the book.”

“Ventilation, Harry. That’s very good, but it’s still not good to practice without telling anyone.”

“Yes, Remus,” Harry sighed before leading the adults to a nearby, abandoned building. 4 different potions were sturdily brewing in a variety of cauldron types.

Remus rushed to check each potion’s phase while Sirius cast charms to check for building integrity and ventilation safety. Once both men were convinced Harry had, somehow, set things up within reasonable standards, Sirius wiped a hand across his face and transfigured a few loose bricks into chairs and sat down wearily. “Alright, pup, tell us what you’re making, how you got the cauldrons  _ here _ , and  _ why _ .”

For the next hour, the boy enthused excitedly about the various experiments he was doing, the benefits of making friends with house-elves, and the lengths he took to keep his cousins from finding out about the potions. He did not, according to any of the confused adults, explain  _ why _ he was doing all of this, but Sirius and Remus supposed that none of the Marauders would have been able to explain why they had come up with a majority of the projects and pranks they did in school. A potions lab was added to the cottage—keyed so that only adult wizards, witches, and Harry were able to enter—and a potions tutor was added to his weekly schedule.

_ Professor McGonagall, _

_ Young Harry seems to be quite interested in Potions. I wanted to know if there was anything we should especially prepare him for so that Snape does not manage to dampen his spirits or eagerness to learn the subject. I also had a question about a Transfiguration project I wanted to undertake, but that would be better to discuss over tea someday soon. _

_ Respectfully, _

_ Remus Lupin _

_ Remus, _

_ You are no longer my student. Call me Minerva, please. Would you like to come to the school this week for tea, or are you more comfortable meeting with me at home? We would need to delay until term was over if your comfort lies in the latter option. _

_ Warmly, _

**_Minerva_ **


End file.
